Thank you for not judging the way my OCD has held me hostage for the past year. Or the way scars criss cross my veins, forming a constellation of suffering.
It wasn't easy opening up to you but you never criticized me for my past mistakes. Thank you for accepting me even though you didn't understand me. You allowed me to be less afraid of being with another person.
I think I knew in the begging that we wouldn't have much time together. When you talked to other girls because you were "bored" or picked up shifts on your day off, I knew I would never be first for you. Even though you didn't put in the same amount of effort, there were days where I hoped you would change. Like when we went shopping at Ikea and put all the furniture together in the same night. Or when you showed me your favorite places in Kingston. You made me try new things like shrimp, and tofu, and oysters. You called it "expanding my horizons." Thank you for sharing a bit of yourself with me.
I know you longed for someone or something. The way you would hold on to me at night, our arms and legs and dreams intertwined. I wish I could have been enough for you, but even you didn't know what you wanted from life.
At times you made me feel like I wasn't good enough or that I was in some way inferior. I forgive you for that and I'm sorry if that's how life has taught you to treat others. I so badly wanted you to understand that life has kicked me down as well. I wish your experiences hadn't hardened you into the shell of the person you once were.
So thank you for never letting me get too close. You made it easier for me to distance myself from you. Thank you for not allowing me to love you, it saved me the mess of a shattered heart. And thank you for being the stepping stone that I needed to learn, and grow, and heal.
